


lukewarm

by eggi



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Dissociative Identity Disorder, Everyone is trying to recover from trauma, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mild Blood, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28585143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggi/pseuds/eggi
Summary: nothing is as it was after junko tainted all of them.red has never made hinata react until she came along. sunday has never been so far away.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime & Mioda Ibuki, Hinata Hajime & Nanami Chiaki, Hinata Hajime & Super Danganronpa 2 Cast, Mentioned Hinata Hajime/Junko Enoshima
Comments: 11
Kudos: 30





	lukewarm

**Author's Note:**

> please remember that this has major trigger warnings!!! read the tags!! <3 i love you all, please stay safe!!!! 
> 
> ~ 
> 
> probably one of the works i'm actually proud of so.. woo???? though it's angst and i wrote this 10:30pm it's still pretty rad. hasn't been edited so please tell me/point out any mistakes!

There’s nothing but the sound of running water. The silence is both underwhelming and too much. 

It hangs over the atmosphere like a cloud. No, something more accurate would be a storm cloud. Something that was too easy to trigger, although the mechanics were so fucking simplistic, something unexpected, unable to be stopped. 

The red shampoo bottle Hinata has is broken on the ground. He can’t wash his hair anymore, and he can’t feel his hands. He vaguely notices that the mirror is broken and there are shards of glass surrounding the sink. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but his hands don’t hurt. He doesn’t trust his own head. 

He admires a piece of glass, the blood caking his hands still reminding him of her and he hates it. He wants to bleach his hands. He wants to rip them off, but that would end up with more red everywhere and he can’t stand seeing the color of her nails ever again and he doesn’t want red near him anymore and he’d rather be choked by his shower curtain than have to see her again. 

He can’t breathe anymore, and he doesn’t want to relapse into Izuru again. He had enough episodes and he’s so fucking tired of it. He wants to be Hinata. He doesn’t want to have a second personality and he wants to be Hajime Hinata but it’s hard to be Hinata when she’s there because she always preferred when he was Izuru after she had already plagued him. 

Hinata returns his hands to the running water, the tears streaming down his face reminiscent of the water. He wishes he could drown, but he knows he can’t. 

Once again, it takes too long for Hinata to get out of the bathroom. 

~

It’s the next day, and Hinata had somehow managed to collapse into his bed. He blinks, vision hazy as he stares up at the ceiling. Remember cigarette burns ligning his arm. Hickeys dotting his body. Nail indents. Kisses. Bites. Scars. 

He wants to get up. He needs to take his medications, but he can’t bother and he shuts his eyes and takes his pillow, covering his face and snuffing his breath out for a minute before his body forcibly takes it from him, making him gasp and choke for air. 

He feels tears in his eyes, and he haphazardly wipes them away with his wrist. He wants to get up. He needs to get up. He has missed messages from the past week and his friends were worried. Were they his friends? ▊▊▊▊▊▊▊▊ wouldn’t have let him contact them. 

Old habits die hard. 

He gets up, propping himself up by his elbow, eyes puffy and dark circles under his eyes as he picks up the phone. It felt like his arm was being dragged down like an anchor. Like ▊▊▊▊▊▊▊▊was physically bringing him down to the depths of wherever she was. 

He ignores that, opening the messages he had in his phone. He grimaces ever so slightly, the glaring red notification hurting his eyes. His friends had contacted him, as he thought, along with his therapist. 

His friends were going through the same thing. He had no right to be so upset when they were also recovering. They were trying to help when they were in pain too, and he felt guilt stab at his heart like a stake. Might as well crucify him, right? He lets himself snort at the thought, though the tone was devoid of humor. 

He didn’t want to talk to anyone, despite how much he worried for the others and how they worried for him, he’d rather die than be looked out for. 

Therapy be damned. 

~ 

Hinata eats toast again. It was stale, and he hadn’t replaced his food at all in a week. He had cereal left and he felt sick. 

▊▊▊▊▊▊▊▊ would have said something like ‘poor baby’ and would have force-fed him something she cooked. If he didn’t she’d put it in her own mouth and kiss him and push the food into his mouth. 

He jolts out his chair, clambering out of it before crashing down, down - as if a giant sinkhole had decided to drag him down into his own thoughts. Something he couldn’t escape. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see anything and he shut his eyes tight hoping it didn’t happen again and he tried grabbing a sensory item he knew he had somewhere around here but it couldn’t be helped anymore and he wished he was anywhere but here again. 

When he came back to his senses, he was standing, scissors in his hand and clumps of hair on the ground. His furniture was tipped over, plastic cups broken, and imprints of hands around his throat. 

His hair looked how it did when he was in highschool and he wouldn’t have realized he had grown his hair out more than back then but apparently enough to cut and he wishes he had more hair for once because he wants to cut something but not himself he didn’t have to relapse he was clean for a month or so and he knows his friends would be devastated the moment he came to their houses crying looking for comfort when they were dealing with what they already were and- 

He couldn’t help it when the little he ate threatened to clamber out of his stomach. He retches, throwing up onto the floor, dry heaving when he had nothing else to throw up. His throat burned. 

He collapses into a chair, arm draped over his eyes. He was a mess. 

~ 

Komaeda came to his house later that day. 

Said that Ibuki sent him. Hinata could tell by the bags under his eyes and small cast on his wrist that he had sprained it again. He was crying too, dried tear tracks under his eyes, gaunt cheeks and he could practically trace the scars on his arms and the godforsaken indent of the chain he once wore bright red against his throat. 

“Hello, Hinata.” He croaks in his raspy voice, though it felt worse this time, more sickly, and god, was Komaeda warmer? Hinata puts a hand to his forehead and he feels sick when he realizes that - in irony - Komaeda had a fever. “Sorry to disrupt you! I’m sure you have a lot more interesting things to do and I wish I could have better timing and didn’t look so utterly horrendous and I hope you don’t trample me for my mistake but-” 

Hinata slapped his hand over Komaeda’s mouth, the same vacant look in Komaeda’s eyes. He doesn't miss the flinch. “Stop. Just -” he sputters elegantly, furrowing his brows. “What did you come here for?” Komaeda looks like he’s on cloud nine from Hinata’s basic human treatment and Hinata feels like throwing up again. 

“I wanted to check up on you. If you want me to go and would rather not see my horrible physique I can leave-” Hinata nods, exhausted, and he would have felt guiltier and sagged more but he wasn’t and he wished he was. “Ah. Okay. I’ll - yeah. I’ll go. Ibuki said to give you these.” Komaeda fumbles a bit with his obviously sprained wrist, trying to hurt it was much as possible and Hinata can only watch in apathetic awareness as he hands him a Kandi bracelet. 

“Thanks,” came Hinata’s response, nonchalant and shooting down any means for conversation. Hinata puts on the bracelet, and Komaeda gives a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me - ?” Komaeda tries again, concern in his eyes, and god he wished he didn’t seem so sympathetic and he wished Komaeda didn’t want to be useful so much that he tried so hard to help him and he wished he could leave before Hinata did something he regretted - 

“Just go. I don’t need you here. I don’t need you and I don’t want you here. I wish you were gone already.” The jumble of words he didn’t mean was out of his head in one breath and he wished he didn’t say it and he wished he could see Komaeda’s reaction to comfort him and tell him he didn’t truly mean it but his head is too heavy with the thoughts in his head and he can’t bring his head up anymore. 

There’s silence for once. 

“Okay,” was the soft response Hinata got in return, and he hears footsteps, footsteps walking gradually away from him and when he finally lifts his head when his thoughts are cleared and only the painful emotion of regret and guilt hit him like a brick, Komaeda was already gone and the door was shut. 

Hinata collapses, snapping the Kandi bracelet’s string, the elastic snapping against his wrist and the beads clattering everywhere and it would be a pain to clean but maybe if he kept it there he could slip and get a concussion or maybe even die. It was wishful thinking. 

As Hinata stops weeping for all he’s lost and all he’s had, he wishes that he was back with her. She’d at least cradle him, no matter how hard her grip hurt, no matter how much he wished he was being tortured instead but maybe it was torture but disguised, he wished he was anything but alone. 

Hinata leans his head onto the wall, bringing it back then slamming it into the wall, blood pooling ever so slightly and head ringing with the dumb stupid pain he wished he could increase. He wishes he could die but he couldn’t because his friends were there and like the Kandi bracelet, they were so easily able to sever and break. He wasn't the only one like this and he wishes he could apologize one last time to Komaeda. 

Hinata picks up the Kandi bracelet, tying the ends back together to leave a pathetic 6 beads left on the string, slipping it onto his wrist again with tears welling in his eyes. 

He wishes he was 16 again and he wishes he could tie himself back together as easily as the bracelet. 

~ 

Hinata was back in the bath again, back into the rippling lukewarm water where he wishes he could drown. 

He wishes he could inhale the water and choke and maybe the police could find his dead body and they’d finally understand. They’d all understand and he wouldn’t have to be in pain anymore. 

But it was Tuesday, and Sunday was Nanami’s birthday and they all promised to gather at her gravestone and he wanted to stay until then and maybe more because he hasn’t done everything a 22 year old should have. 

So for now, as his tears merge into the water, he would repeat the same cycle until Sunday, when the days would be over and he would relax. He would relax that day and he wouldn’t have to feel blood resting on his tongue. 

The only sound in the bathroom is running water again, and Hinata’s contained sobbing.


End file.
